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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23531719">Somebody That I Used to Know</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CirrusGrey/pseuds/CirrusGrey'>CirrusGrey</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(off-screen) - Freeform, Angst with a Happy Ending, Archivist!Sasha, Episode Related, F/M, Getting Together, Grief/Mourning, I wrote this in under a day what have I become, M/M, Temporary Character Death, episode 161 spoilers, not!jon, rating is for minor swears/blood and implied sexual content, this is my third posted story in a week's time</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 15:40:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,358</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23531719</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CirrusGrey/pseuds/CirrusGrey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>(Minor) SPOILERS FOR MAG 161!!!</p><p>Jon gets replaced by the Not!Them. Life goes on.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner (background), Martin Blackwood &amp; Sasha James &amp; Jonathan Sims &amp; Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Sasha James/Tim Stoker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>108</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>831</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Somebody That I Used to Know</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspired by various Not!Jon fanart and fanfic floating around.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Martin doesn't notice when it happens. He'd been in the tunnels for so long, found a dead body, run round in circles before he finally found his way out-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon ended up in Artifact Storage after they got separated, apparently, and Elias triggered the fire systems. Tim and Sasha are in quarantine for now, and they somehow managed to get out of the day with no casualties.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thanks Jon, profusely, for leaving the secured documents room to push him out of the way of Prentiss. Jon smiles, and says he couldn't just go letting Martin get eaten, and hugs him, and Martin's heart doesn't skip a beat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Martin doesn't notice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn't notice until several months later. He and Tim are out for drinks - a rare occurrence, these days, because no matter how much they try Sasha is getting more and more paranoid and it's hurting Tim that she distrusts him, hurting him so much even though he won't admit it-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They're out for drinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin makes an offhand comment about how maybe they should have invited Jon along, and Tim snorts and apologizes and says, "I know you two were close, it's just- god, I'm glad he's not here. He's a bit </span>
  <em>
    <span>much,</span>
  </em>
  <span> you know?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know,</span>
  </em>
  <span> believe me," Martin laughs. "I can't believe I used to have a crush on that guy."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there it is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it is the truth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>used </span>
  </em>
  <span>to have a crush on Jon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn't anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hasn't for a while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Can't imagine why he ever did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon is- nice. Nice enough. Sometimes he makes a joke, and it seems like he's teasing you, but there's a cutting edge to it that makes you think that maybe he's serious? And then he laughs, and claps you on the back, and you have to laugh too otherwise it would be weird, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it's not like he's in the office enough to actively </span>
  <em>
    <span>dislike,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he never comes in early or stays late, and half his lunch breaks he's out with his new boyfriend Tom anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin thinks he would have been jealous of that, once upon a time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it's not like he's distant, either, he's just- normal. They have normal conversations in the breakroom. Talk about the weather, and the news, and what they did over the weekend. Some of Jon's jokes are rather innuendo-heavy for Martin's tastes, and even Tim has raised a skeptical eyebrow from time to time, but, well- that's just a thing people do, yeah? People have different senses of humor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon is nice enough. But Martin can't imagine actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>liking </span>
  </em>
  <span>him. Not in that way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The conversation moves on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They aren't close anymore. But it still hurts when Jon disappears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hurts just as much that Sasha's gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least he and Tim are still on the same side, even if everyone else believes she's a murderer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He almost breaks when Melanie starts talking about there being two Jons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Almost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Denial can be a powerful thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It feels right, when Sasha says it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Horribly, painfully, soul-shatteringly right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jon died almost a year ago, Martin."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He should have known.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He used to record poetry in the Archives, when he'd been living there after Prentiss besieged his flat. On an old tape recorder, that he'd dug up in storage, because he liked the audio quality. Most of it is utter tosh. One tape is important.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Martin. Do you have a minute?" The voice is low, rough. Nothing at all like the bright cheer Martin remembers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His own voice is stuttering, awkward; he knows that tone, that's the oh-god-please-don't-notice-the-tape-recorder, please-don't-realize-I've-been-writing-poetry-about-you tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How are you settling in?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin doesn't remember this voice. But he listens to the conversation, soft and sweet as it is, and remembers being friends with Jon. This is a voice he could be close with. This is a voice he could bare his soul to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is a voice he could fall in love with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time the tape is over, by the time Jon has wished him goodnight and Martin has sighed dreamily and muttered a quiet expletive upon finding the recorder still running, he is crying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sasha finds him at his desk months later, after the kidnapping and before China. She is quiet, solemn. There's a small piece of paper in her hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Martin, I- I thought you might like to have this."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What is it?" It's small, too small to be a case file.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Melanie gave it to me. She- she's friends with Georgie Barker, from What the Ghost?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The podcast?" Martin's listened to a few episodes. Jon used to like the show. His heart sinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes. She- Georgie, that is, not Melanie- she was friends with J- with Jon. In uni."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Was she?" The words are faint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sasha sticks out her hand, proffering the photograph. "She had a polaroid camera. I thought you might want this. I know you were close."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin accepts the photograph, biting his lip. In the picture, a man faces the camera, arm thrown around the shoulders of a curly-haired woman Martin knows is Georgie Barker, because she has pictures on her website and Jon had shown them to him one day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man has dark skin, and dark hair, and dark eyes, and he's not quite as tall as Ms. Barker, which is odd because Jon was taller than Tim, in Martin's memories.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's smiling, and it is a hesitant sort of smile that suits the hesitant sort of voice Martin has memorized off his tape, and the hesitant sort of friendship they had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's a book in the man's hand, the one that's not holding Ms. Barker, and that suits Martin's memories too, because Jon was only ever hesitant in friendship, and was a fire-brand of overblown confidence when it came to academics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He realizes, suddenly, that he is sobbing, and that Sasha has her arms around him and is murmuring words of comfort into his ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sh- should we show Tim?" he manages to choke out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He was there when Melanie gave it to me," she whispers. "He said you needed it more."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin cries harder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It makes so much sense, when Tim tells him about the circus and about Danny.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They find a grim sort of solidarity in their losses, and there is a grim sort of understanding in the way Tim promises to bring them down, at any cost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"For both of them."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin stays behind, with Melanie. He knows it is where he will be most helpful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elias taunts him for pining after a man long dead, and for his mother, and for his everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melanie says Elias needs to die, and it takes everything Martin has not to agree with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sasha dies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sasha lives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sasha sleeps a living death, and Tim is drifting, drifting, mad with grief and survivor's guilt, because Sasha made him stay behind at the bed and breakfast, and maybe, maybe he'd have been able to save her if he'd been there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peter Lukas takes over the Institute, and nothing Martin says can make Tim stay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He misses you," he tells Sasha, "and he doesn't know what his purpose is now that Danny has been avenged.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's certainly not to </span>
  <em>
    <span>die,"</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sasha says, and there are tears in her eyes, and Martin wishes he could do more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She saves Daisy. She destroys the Dark Star. She takes statements, and Tim leaves a very sharply worded note about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daisy does not gouge her eyes out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Basira does not gouge her eyes out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin does not gouge his eyes out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Melanie gouges her eyes out with an awl, and Martin rides with her in the ambulance to the hospital, and he meets Georgie Barker there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He very determinedly does not ask her about Jon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What the hell is that thing?" Daisy asks, and it is loud, too loud, the Hunters keep talking and there's gunshots and screams and-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You remember what happened to Jon?" Sasha says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That’s the thing that took him?" Basira asks, and Martin barely hears her over the pounding of blood in his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It was trapped in the tunnels. It- Tim." The blood drains from her face. "Something’s happening down there."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"If he’s down there with Peter, or Elias…" Basira shakes her head. "Dammit, we need to get down there!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's more noise from the other side of the door, and there is a scream building in Martin's chest, and the others are still talking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Basira is the most pulled-together of the group. "They’ll follow us… goddammit." She shakes her head again, desperate but still logical. "Sasha, Martin, go. We’ll keep them busy."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?" Sasha splutters, and Martin manages a very firm "No!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don’t argue," Basira says. "Just go."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sasha?" taunts a sing-song voice from outside, and it is Jon's voice, it is </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jon's voice,</span>
  </em>
  <span> except it's not, it's the voice of the thing that killed him, and the scream bubbles up from Martin's lungs and comes out as a mad laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm staying. Sasha, go. Tim needs you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Martin-" Sasha begins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Tim needs you. And I'm needed here."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks at him for a long, long moment. Casts a single glance through the door, toward the thing that is not Jon. Squeezes him, briefly, on the shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fine. Just don’t die," she says, and glares at Daisy and Basira. "That goes for all of you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Go," Basira says, and Sasha runs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a moment of quiet, except nothing can be quiet with the Institute under attack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This might be it," Basira says, and Martin looks away. Her voice is soft and gentle, and this isn't a conversation meant for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Basira…" Daisy says, and Martin resolutely tunes them out. It's the least he can do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He only tunes back in when Basira's hand lands on his shoulder, and the only part of the conversation he hears is her saying, in a desperate, broken voice, "I promise."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thanks," Daisy says. "Now run. Both of you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Basira is halfway through saying Daisy's name, pleading with her, when Martin cuts her off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both look at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm not leaving," he says, and holds out a hand. "Lend me your gun, Basira."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyebrows shoot up her forehead. "Do you even know how to use it?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," he says. "I've- I've learned. Took a class, after-" </span>
  <em>
    <span>After Jon was killed, after Sasha was attacked a hundred times, after I realized everyone in the Archives could fight except me.</span>
  </em>
  <span> "It seemed useful. I'm not certified, but-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daisy cuts him off. "But that hardly matters now." She shakes her head. "Forget all that, Martin, you need to </span>
  <em>
    <span>run."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"No.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Not with the-" He breathes in, harshly, chest aching. "You go after the Hunters. I'll distract the- the Jon-thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Basira's iron grip on his shoulder softens, and her voice along with it. "Martin..."</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"No!"</span>
  </em>
  <span> he says again. "No, look, Jon was my </span>
  <em>
    <span>friend,</span>
  </em>
  <span> we were </span>
  <em>
    <span>close,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he was-" he's spitting the words now, sharp and bitter. "I never got the chance to fall in love with him. At least let me get my revenge."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They are silent for a moment. Then: "Give him the gun, Basira."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Daisy-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know as well as I do he won't take no for an answer."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Basira presses one hand to her face. Martin thinks she might be crying. "Fine." She hands him the gun. "Fine. Don't get killed." And she pulls Daisy into a fierce kiss, and Martin looks away again. "Come back to me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll see what I can do. Now </span>
  <em>
    <span>run!"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There's a snarl to Daisy's words, and Basira runs. Martin shrinks against the wall, and he doesn't think Daisy even sees him as the snarl turns to a growling, grating bark, and she launches herself through the doorway toward the other Hunters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's a scuffle-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A gunshot-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feet moving away, three voices blended in a confusion of swears and cries of pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin peeks around the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room is blood-spattered, but empty. He takes a deep breath, and starts to move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn't take long to find the thing pretending to be Jon. It's on its way out of the Archives, headed for the rest of the Institute and new victims. It seems injured by its scuffle with the Hunters, but still strong. Still a threat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Insectoid limbs scuttle over the ground, and Martin almost loses his resolve. But he takes a deep breath and clasps his hands behind his back. The gun hangs heavily from them, pointed at the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jon!" he calls, and the word feels like a perversion in his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It stops. Turns. Shifts, as it does so, and when it is facing him it is- Jon. Blood smeared across his face, dark bruises rising on his pale skin, short hair disheveled and blues eyes flashing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is so different from the face in that old photograph. It is Jon, as Martin remembers him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Martin!" he says, and the voice is familiar too, from breakroom conversations and late-night research. "What are you doing here?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I was looking for you." Martin takes a shaky step forward. In his pocket is the familiar weight of a tape, tightly sealed in a bag with a polaroid picture. He's carried them with him constantly, since he learned. To remind himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, here I am," Jon says, and smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Here you are."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both know he knows it is not Jon. They both know every instinct in him is screaming that it is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I've missed you, Martin," Jon says. "I've been away so long."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I've missed you too." It's the truth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm so glad to hear it!" Jon smiles again. "You know, Martin, there's something I've been meaning to tell you. I've always had a bit of a thing for you. Shocking, right? Bet you never would have guessed."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wouldn't he? There was a time, before everything, late nights living in the Archives, when he knew the only reason Jon stayed was to spend time with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Have you?" He's surprised how steady his voice is. "Well, that's a relief. I've always had a bit of a thing for you, as well."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why, Martin! How fortuitous."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes. So why don't you come over here, and we can do something about that?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon smiles, and takes a slow, deliberate step forward. Martin wants to read menace into those eyes fixed on him. He wants his heart to be beating in fear, his limbs shaking in an adrenaline rush as he carefully times his attack, soon enough that the thing doesn't reach him and kill him but late enough he can be sure of not missing when he takes the shot-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the mind is a funny thing. Because-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>this isn't Jon. He never even had a crush on this thing pretending to be him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But those are the eyes he remembers from late nights and early mornings, close conversations where they bared their souls. Those are the hands he has dreamed of holding, the lips he has dreamed of kissing, the voice he has imagined murmuring sweet nothings into his ear as he falls asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon stops in front of him, and Martin tilts his head back to meet his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hello, Martin."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Goodbye."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin brings the gun around, taking a step back as he does. One hand supports the other, just as he was taught. No need to worry about aiming, from this close to the target.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One shot to the chest. Two. Three. The thing </span>
  <em>
    <span>screams.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Its illusion collapses as it does, and spindly limbs lash out from the thing that is no longer human. Martin jumps back, out of range, and watches in disgust as it shrivels and shrinks in on itself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And shrinks some more. And more. And-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The screaming changes pitch, from a shriek to a yell to a grunt of pain, and suddenly there is something very human indeed falling to the floor, long hair flying around his head, and-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, god.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man from the old polaroid that Melanie brought in, that Georgie gave her. The man on the tapes, the one who had argued with Sasha about how to pronounce calliope, whose voice he had heard only when it was too late, after Sasha told them all he was dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The one who had been Martin's best friend, before he suddenly couldn't understand why they had been so close, before they weren't even friends at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The one who Martin had had a crush on. The one whose memory Martin has been mourning for two years.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jon.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It hits him like a punch to the gut, Jon's face rushing in to fill the space in his memories where the monster's has been, and suddenly it is </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>obvious, the moment he was replaced. There's months with a stranger's face in the office, months mourning someone he doesn't even know after Sasha destroyed the table and it disappeared. And now-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now it's Jon, in front of him, and god, Martin wants the chance to fall in love with this man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Jon, dear, sweet Jon, who was a bit of an asshole but had bonded with Martin over their shared impostor syndrome in their new job, who had helped him out on the sly so Sasha wouldn't find out just how bad at research he was, who he had broken down in front of and told all about his lie on his CV and who had never judged him for it, who had confessed to </span>
  <em>
    <span>him,</span>
  </em>
  <span> in a moment of late-night honestly, that he truly believed all the statements and he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry </span>
  </em>
  <span>he kept yelling at Martin about them but Martin kept pointing out all the flaws in his armor of skepticism and he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>scared,</span>
  </em>
  <span> so scared, of spiders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon, who had pushed him out of the way of the worms before fleeing to Artifact Storage, who had put himself in danger to save Martin's life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon raises himself on one elbow, and looks at Martin with a bewildered expression, and says: "Martin? What the hell happened? What's- where's Prentiss?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon's hand fits very nicely in his own, he finds. Jon had fit very well into his arms, too, when Martin had fallen to his knees next to him and swept him into a hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would be a little nicer, admittedly, if Jon would get it through his head that they need to </span>
  <em>
    <span>go,</span>
  </em>
  <span> so Martin wouldn't have to keep dragging him along like this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll explain when we're in the tunnels, okay?" It comes out disjointed and out of breath - he's still not the world's best runner, despite over two years of things trying to kill him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Tunnels? What- Martin, what </span>
  <em>
    <span>tunnels?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, god. He's missed so much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Here!" He yanks them to a halt over the trapdoor, pulls it open and drags Jon down. Jon's face is fixed in an expression of shock, mouth a perfect O of surprise, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>christ,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Martin must have had a worse crush than he remembered if he can be distracted by how adorable Jon is even in a situation like this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay," he says, once the door is shut above them and they are in the relative safety of the tunnels. He pulls out his phone and flicks on the torch. "This is going to take a while to explain, so let's walk and talk."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Which way?" Jon's hand tightens around Martin's, and oh. They're still holding hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I- it's, uh, should be- should be here." Martin leads Jon to the right. "This is the way we always took when we were hiding from Elias, it's probably where Basira went. Once we find her, we can look for Sasha and Tim."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon's footsteps stumble for a moment. "The way you </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>took?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh. Right."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Martin..." Jon's voice is soft with fear. "How long have I been gone?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin doesn't respond. The tunnel is filled with the quiet echo of their steps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Martin."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Two years."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon draws in a sharp breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah. It's been two years." Martin can feel himself tearing up, tries to swallow it back. "There's a lot of details we'll fill you in on later, but the short version is that when you went into Artifact Storage you were attacked by the thing in that table. The- the one from Graham Folger's statement?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh." Jon's grip tightens again. "Oh no."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah. It was- I'm sorry, Jon, I'm so sorry." The words are out before he can think about them, and before he has a chance to process what he's just said Jon has pulled him into another hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Martin, you just </span>
  <em>
    <span>saved </span>
  </em>
  <span>me. Why are you apologizing?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"B- because I should have known! You were- we were </span>
  <em>
    <span>close.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Weren't we?" And suddenly he is unsure, because two years is a long time and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>he used to get on Jon's nerves. But they were close, too, weren't they?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course we were, Martin, you're- you're my best friend." Martin doesn't think Jon notices the change in tense, but his own heart thrills a little at the present. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You are.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He is.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Alive.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"Unless-" Jon grimaces. "Was my doppelganger horrible?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not really," Martin sniffs, pressing his face into Jon's chest just to feel the reality of him. He's still taller than Martin, but much, much shorter than Tim. "He was just- blandly pleasant. Made a lot of inappropriate jokes."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Urg."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah." Martin manages a laugh. "I should have- I </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>something wasn't right, it was- I just couldn't imagine why we'd been friends." </span>
  <em>
    <span>Or why I had a crush on you.</span>
  </em>
  <span> "But it all felt normal, like we'd just drifted apart even though it had only been a day."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, that's what that- </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing </span>
  </em>
  <span>does to you, I suppose."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We thought you were dead." It comes out so small and quiet, so unintentional. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon hesitates for a moment. "Well... I'm not?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No." Martin lifts his head, grabs Jon firmly by the face and plants a kiss on his cheek. "You're not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon is blushing. Martin grabs his hand again and starts to walk. He's feeling a bit less teary, now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So, yeah. Sasha figured out that you'd been replaced, and managed to trap the thing pretending to be you. I don't know how it got free, but it's been gone for about a year and a half, only just broke out today."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So you decided trapping it wasn't enough, and killed it?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not really. It was more of a blind, vengeance-fueled rage."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm... flattered?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin grins. </span>
  <em>
    <span>God,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he'd missed Jon. "You should be, I don't go ham for just anyone."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll be sure to keep that in mind. So if it's dead, why are we running?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Short version? There's a couple people upstairs that want to kill Sasha, because she stole something from them. Sasha is down in these tunnels, following Tim, who made a deal with Peter Lukas - the guy with the boat whose family funds the Institute? - and he's in serious danger if Sasha doesn't find him in time. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We </span>
  </em>
  <span>are looking for Basira, who's a former police officer who joined the Archives as part of a blackmail deal so that her partner wouldn't be killed. Oh, and Elias is evil, he's actually Jonah Magnus, who's been hijacking people's bodies for two hundred years for some as-of-yet unknown purpose. He murdered Gertrude Robinson."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Gertrude was </span>
  <em>
    <span>murdered?"</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jon blinks, and covers his eyes with one hand. "I can't tell how much of that you're serious about and how much is a joke."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Unfortunately, I'm serious about all of it. Wait- is that a light?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's a faint glow in the darkness ahead of them, getting brighter. Basira's voice echoes faintly down the tunnel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Martin? Is that you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Basira!" Martin waves his phone in the air, flashing the torch Basira's way. "Meet you in the middle?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they approach, Martin sees that Basira is not alone. Walking behind her is Sasha, who is hand-in-hand with-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Tim!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin shoves his phone at Jon and sprints forward, colliding with Tim in a bear hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're alive!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"M- Martin?" Tim sounds a bit fuzzy and out of it, but okay. Like himself. "Why are you hugging me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Because I </span>
  <em>
    <span>care </span>
  </em>
  <span>about you, you idiot," Martin laughs. "Like I've been trying to tell you for the last </span>
  <em>
    <span>year!"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim's gaze has drifted over his shoulder. "Is that..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh my god," Sasha says, at the same time. </span>
  <em>
    <span>"Jon."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon, who had been standing awkwardly next to Basira watching the reunion, gives a small wave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He is engulfed in a double hug before he can do so much as say hi.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a while for each group to pass on enough explanations for the others to be satisfied moving on. When they do finally leave, Sasha leads the way, holding Tim's hand again and claiming she knows a route that won't take them through the Institute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin follows behind them with Jon and Basira. After a few minutes of silence Jon sticks out his hand to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm Jonathan Sims, by the way. Archival Assistant at the Magnus Institute."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shakes it. "Basira Hussain. Archival Assistant at the Magnus Institute."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Right," Jon raises an eyebrow. "Martin said something to that extent."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I must say, Mr. Sims, you seem to be taking this all rather well."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jon, please," Jon says, and shrugs. "I'm having a hard time processing it all. Last thing I remember I was worried I was going to get eaten by worms, so..." he reaches out, grabs Martin's hand. "I'm just trying to focus on the important things for now. Everything else can wait."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes approximately six hours of nonstop discussion sitting around Martin's living room table for them to all finally catch each other up, and a further two to decide on a course of action.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This all happens </span>
  <em>
    <span>after </span>
  </em>
  <span>a full night of sleep on various cushions and blankets he manages to scrounge up for people to sleep on, because they may be determined but they're not insane.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon falls asleep next to him on the floor, and they wake up spooning. Neither of them mentions it, though Sasha keeps shooting Martin some very knowing looks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the end, Basira tosses Sasha a set of keys and orders her off to Scotland. There's no question that Tim will be going with her; Martin is rather surprised to find that he and Jon will be, as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But, I mean- we could- we could help you? In London? Sasha's the one Elia- Jonah is after, surely-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No offence, Martin, but I'm better off on my own." Basira gives him a bitten-off grin. "Besides, I'll have an easier time getting info out of my contacts on the force if I'm not also trying to explain why a guy who's been dead for a year and a half is suddenly walking around again like nothing happened."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which is how they end up crammed into a small sedan, Sasha at wheel as they speed their way out of London.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She and Tim are up front, Jon and Martin in the backseat. Tim has control of the radio, and Martin watches in fond familiarity as Jon rolls his eyes over each new music choice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's so familiar. He's so </span>
  <em>
    <span>real.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Over the course of the drive it becomes abundantly apparent that he and Martin are third-wheeling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Feels a bit like we're interrupting their honeymoon, doesn't it?" Jon remarks, leaning back against the car and watching in faint disgust as Tim and Sasha flirt and kiss shamelessly as they make their way into the small roadside shop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin wrinkles his nose. "I mean, we kind of are? They've been dancing around this for a long time, and now they're finally together and... here we are."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hmm..." Jon's mouth twists into something that might be regret. "I never thought </span>
  <em>
    <span>they'd </span>
  </em>
  <span>be the office couple."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin glances at him quickly, then away. He doesn't have the courage to address that comment. Not yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are two bedrooms in the small cottage. Sasha and Tim claim one immediately. Jon and Martin both chivalrously offer to sleep on the couch, until Sasha tells them to stop being so immature and just share the other room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which is... fine. It will be fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon is a warm weight in the bed next to him, and he hasn't changed at all from the man Martin remembers. Martin finds himself staring, unable to stop; lying curled on his side as Jon stares back at him, and thinking about how much he himself has changed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon is the first to break the silence, frowning slightly as he looks at Martin in the dim light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You've got a scar on your cheek," he whispers. "You didn't used to."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know." Martin's lips tug down in a frown of his own. "It's from when the Flesh attacked - remember, we told you earlier?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes." Jon's hand lifts, and for a moment Martin thinks he's going to run his finger over Martin's cheek- then the hand drops again, limp in the small space between them. "You've been through so much. I must seem pretty naive, to you." He laughs, though it's clear there's no humor in it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin shrugs, just a tiny movement of his shoulders. "I don't know. I've spent so long missing you, this all feels like- like some kind of wonderful dream."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh." Jon blinks and looks away. When he meets Martin's eyes again, it's hesitant. "I think-" he breaks off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What is it?" Right here and now, in this moment, it feels as though nothing has changed. Jon is as he ever was, and Martin can set aside, for a while, the hurts and heartbreak he has endured since he last saw him. He can forget that he is a different person now, that he is just as much a stranger to Jon as the thing pretending to be Jon was to him, that he is no longer the man Jon called a friend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think I've missed you too. I don't- I don't </span>
  <em>
    <span>remember </span>
  </em>
  <span>the time I've been gone, but it feels- I can </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel </span>
  </em>
  <span>that there is a stretch of time where I... wasn't. And even though I wasn't, I was still missing you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin doesn't try to stop the tears that rise at that. He presses the palm of his hand against one eye, roughly brushing them away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jon? Can I hug you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes." Jon moves forward, into his space, and encloses Martin in his arms. It's not the first time they've done this: those first couple nights living at the Archives, Jon had held him as he shook, residual terror keeping him up late into the night. Martin isn't quite sure how they ever got to be so close, what with Jon's abrasiveness and his own careful veneer of distant but friendly cheer - but he knows, deep in the core of him, that he never wants to lose this again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's while they're there, quietly comforting each other in the darkness of the night, that the noise starts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's soft at first, a rhythmic squeaking noise from down the hall. Martin freezes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is that...?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The squeaking gets louder, accompanied by- </span>
  <em>
    <span>noises,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he doesn't even want to describe them to himself, except for the fact that they sound very... </span>
  <em>
    <span>enthusiastic.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"Tim and Sasha," Jon grits out, and he catches Martin's eye for a single, horrified moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then they start laughing, hysterically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh god," Martin chokes out, "I </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>wish these walls weren't so thin."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon mashes his face into Martin's chest, grabbing at his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Cover my ears for me, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please,"</span>
  </em>
  <span> he begs, and Martin laughs even harder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is, aside from the awkwardness of repeatedly walking in on Sasha and Tim snogging on the couch, nice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The four of them had been friends, once, and here away from it all, in a small cottage in the Scottish countryside, they are friends again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They don't have internet access, but Martin's laptop will play DVDs and Tim finds a good selection of boardgames in the village. Jon picks up a cookbook, and many evenings are spent with far too many cooks in the kitchen, steam and laughter pouring out into the night through a half-open window as they get in each others' way and use far more pots and pans than necessary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A good deal of time is spent simply talking, or exploring the surrounding countryside in pairs and as a group, and adjusting to living again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few weeks in, they finally get the promised delivery from Basira, and Sasha's eyes light up as she pages through a package filled with tapes and statements.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin grimaces, extracting himself from the squish of people on the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, as </span>
  <em>
    <span>fun </span>
  </em>
  <span>as listening to you monologue is," he quips sarcastically, "I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>give you some privacy. Go for a walk."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll come with!" Jon stands hastily, jumping to Martin's side. He's still uncomfortable with Sasha's powers. "We can- we can look for good cows."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You and your cows," Tim mutters, shaking his head. "Now </span>
  <em>
    <span>I,</span>
  </em>
  <span> personally, </span>
  <em>
    <span>love </span>
  </em>
  <span>your statement voice, babe." He winks at Sasha. "All that power's pretty hot. So I'm gonna stay and listen."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon and Martin walk out on them as Sasha leans over to kiss him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's a nice day: brisk and windy but clear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon has his hands shoved deep into his pockets, head ducked down into his collar as he walks. Martin keeps half an eye on him, glancing over occasionally but mainly looking out at the fields surrounding them. There seems to be something on his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin doesn't mind the silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If these past few weeks have proven anything to him, it's that nothing about his feelings for Jon have changed. He's still the one Martin is closest to out of all of them, he's still the one Martin trusts most with his secrets, he's still devastatingly handsome.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's still frustratingly unreadable, and Martin still doesn't know if Jon likes the person he is now, or if he's just clinging to the memory of who Martin used to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cottage disappears over a hill behind them, and Jon sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Martin, there's something I want to ask you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin smiles at him. "Ask away."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hm." Jon bites his lip. "See, the problem with this question is that it might make things extremely awkward. Even more so given our current living situation. I don't want to cause friction."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin takes a minute to think about his response before giving it. The wind has picked up, and there are clouds rolling in. A bird flies overhead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think I would prefer to have a relationship where we can ask awkward questions, and work through whatever friction they cause, rather than one where we're too scared to say anything and keep it all to ourselves. You're important enough to me to put effort into this."</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Oh."</span>
  </em>
  <span> It comes out on a rush of air, and for a moment Martin is worried that he's overstepped; then Jon smiles at him. "I'm glad. I- I want that kind of relationship too. And that's actually..." he extracts one hand from his pocket, runs it over the back of his neck. "That actually ties into my question quite- quite nicely."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin tilts his head, affecting a casual air, even though his heart has started racing. "Oh?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes." Jon stops walking, and turns to face him. The wind dies down for a moment, trapping them in a bubble of stillness. "Martin, I care about you. You were, and are, my best friend. I don't want that to change, and I'm scared that asking this question might make change inevitable."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Change doesn't have to be a bad thing."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's not good change I'm afraid of."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin runs his tongue over his lips. His mouth is dry. "I care about you too. Like I said, I'm willing to put effort into this. I think, as long as we're both honest about what we want, we can make sure that this doesn't hurt our friendship."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon nods, and takes a deep breath. "I want you to come on a date with me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin's heart leaps, and his thoughts grind to a halt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon is still talking. "I've had feelings for you for- for a while. And being gone for two years hasn't changed that. I- I know you probably don't feel the same anymore, if you ever did, two years is- is more than enough time for you to move on, I just- I need you to know? In case you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>feel the same, and I-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jon." Martin cuts him off, grabbing him by the shoulders. "I would </span>
  <em>
    <span>love </span>
  </em>
  <span>to go on a date with you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh." Jon's eyes widen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah. Yeah, I- you know how I said the not-you wasn't my friend, and couldn't ever be? My crush went away like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that-"</span>
  </em>
  <span> he snaps his fingers, "-when you were replaced. And then you came back, and it- it's back in full force. And I think it's more than a crush." He laughs, somewhat teary. "I have feelings for you too. Let's go on a date."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh," Jon says again. The wind has restarted, and there's a grumble of thunder in the distance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But, uh, Jon?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes, Martin?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You never asked a question."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He expects laughter. He does not expect Jon to meet his eyes, and say in a firm and confident voice: "Can I kiss you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin kisses him, instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>~~~~~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they get back to the safehouse, laughing and running and ducking to avoid the first raindrops, they find Sasha and Tim collapsed on the floor in front of the couch, holding each other and sobbing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What the hell happened?" Jon's voice is hoarse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, hey guys," Tim says, and gives them a watery grin. "Guess who just saved the world?"</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Later, after everything, when they know they are safe, Sasha will still roll her eyes and lightly smack him on the shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know that's just about the </span>
  <em>
    <span>least </span>
  </em>
  <span>helpful thing you could have said in that scenario?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tim will laugh. "Yeah, but you have to admit it made me look pretty cool.")</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So what I'm saying is if they kill the Not!Them in season five, they can get Sasha back.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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